


So Human As I Am

by Morning_Glory



Series: Any Other World [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, Other, Past Violence, Secrets, in your fandoms bastardizing all your canons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning_Glory/pseuds/Morning_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because something has been broken, doesn't mean it can't be fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. had to give up my defences

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are, jumping back into this 'verse again. I don't have a timeline for updates at this point, since I'm at the mercy of real life, so things will happen as they happen.   
> Tried to cover anything relevant in the tags, but if I've missed anything let me know.   
> As always, all mistakes are mine, all characters are not.

Darcy wakes to the sound of whispering, with a full body ache and the familiar feel of fingers running through her hair. She knows exactly where she is and groans. 

"Aw, fucking  _ fuck _ . M'sorry, Clint," Darcy winces as she shifts, hiding her face against his leg. 

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," she hears the amusement in his tone, but his voice is rough-- that mix of exhaustion and overuse that she's become all too familiar with in the years since this started happening. “Pretty sure they could hear you snoring in Brooklyn.”

“ _ Ugh _ . You better be wearing  _ something  _ when I open my eyes, jackass," Darcy snarks back, reassured that it's actually Clint and needing to let him know it's still her. The teasing was established early as their safety net for nights like this, a signal that things were okay-- that he wasn't coerced into being there, and that her brain wasn't scrambled. "Apparently my night was traumatic enough without waking up to  _ that  _ again." 

"That happened  _ once _ , Darce. You ever gonna let it go?" Clint snorts, but Darcy feels some of the tension drain out of him. She turns her head as she opens her eyes and finally looks up at his face, managing a tiny grin at what she sees.

"Maybe when it stops making you blush," Clint shoots a playful frown at her and Darcy giggles, but trails off into a groan as the movement makes her wince again. She takes a careful breath, inhaling until she feels the pain in her ribs, and all hints of joking disappear. Time to get into it. She asks him how bad and listens patiently as Clint talks her through all of her injuries and treatments, trying to remember what happened but remaining disturbingly blank.

"Also looks like you've got a bit of a shiner coming in here," Clint's thumb brushes beneath her right eye carefully and Darcy grimaces. 

"Well, shit. Guess I'll be playing dodge the supers for a little while. Again," she shifts carefully, trying to find a more comfortable position, and grunts as she jostles her injuries. "What the hell happened last night?" 

"You don't remember?" Clint's voice is cautious, which is never a good sign. Darcy closes her eyes, running through what she does know about her night, and a few fuzzy thoughts eventually come forward. 

"I remember stairs, and... did I... trip over someone?" she opens her eyes again, taking in Clint's carefully blank expression. Another bad sign. 

"Yeah, Darce, you did," he's using his soft voice, the one that means he's got bad news to break and doesn't want to upset her. It's the ' _I'm being sent on an extended mission_ ' tone, or the ' _Jane's had a breakthrough and agents will be lurking around the tower for a few days_ ' tone. That tone never means anything good.

"Oh,  _ please  _ tell me it was one of the robots?" she asks, knowing she's not that lucky. A robot wouldn't mean the use of that voice. Still, she can't help the pleading look she sends him anyway. 

"Darce, I need to tell you something," she holds up her hand and he stops. She stares at him in silence, noting he's still got his mask up and she knows it's worse than she thought. Darcy sighs. 

"Which one?" she's resigned to the idea that one of the people she least wants to know about her situation has stumbled into it. She's tempted to cross her fingers for one of the more understanding ones, but again, she knows her luck. Seeing Clint glance up, she ignores the pain it causes to turn over and look. "Aw, fuck.  _ Really _ ?" 

That is definitely not what she was expecting. 

"Sorry, only part robot," Bucky's voice is deadpan as he shrugs and Darcy feels her lips twitch before she can stop herself. She quickly slips her own blank mask in place, even though she knows it's too late. The man is a trained sniper, similar to Clint. Of course he saw her react. "You okay?" 

"Never better. You?" He doesn't try to hide that he's still studying her, but he also looks amused at her answer. She's not sure what to think about that. It's the first time they've ever really interacted, but it's a good sign that the sarcasm didn't offend him. Yet. It's still early. 

"I've had worse nights," he says, and they stare at each other in silence for a while. She knows Bucky’s reading her as much as she’s trying to do the same to him. She suspects he’s having an easier time of it-- that’s part of what he’s been trained to do, after all. The moment breaks when Clint's thigh shifts beneath her head and a stray thought crosses her mind-- one Darcy can’t resist voicing.

"Well Clint, now I  _ really  _ hope you're wearing something, or this was probably a  _ super _ awkward night for you guys." The playful tug on her hair is reassuring. Whatever happened last night wasn't bad enough to finally drive him away, and the relief at that is worth dealing with any other fallout. The sensation of Clint’s fingers in her hair again is soothing, but nowhere near enough to forget they have an audience. 

"You know I wouldn't have..." Clint breaks off with a sigh, and it's so weary that Darcy has to look at him again. He stares down at her, his voice going the kind of soft that makes her heart ache. "If I didn't say something, he would have asked someone else." 

And it hurts, Darcy thinks, almost as much as the physical wounds, to see him in this state because he's worried about her. She turns her attention back to Bucky, who doesn't even try to hide how closely he's watching them. She doesn’t bother to cover the sharpness of her tone as she demands to know why he’s there.

"And if I say I wanted to make sure you were okay?" Darcy just stares at him, fighting to keep her face blank. She knows she's good, she’s had to be to keep this a secret for so long, but doubts even her best mask can fool the Winter Soldier when he's actually trying. His skills are legendary. 

That’s why it's so surprising when Bucky offers more without prompting. He tells her his perspective of the things she can't remember and doesn't sugarcoat any of it. Darcy actually appreciates that bluntness, horrible as the retelling is. 

"I couldn't stop you taking a header down a flight of stairs, and then I had to watch Barton patch you up instead of getting you a real doctor. Gotta admit, it made me curious.” Darcy cringes as he admits that Clint was right to think he would have gone to Steve if he was shut out. It forces her to acknowledge that necessity forced his being here. 

It doesn't stop her questioning why he’s  _ still  _ here. 

She knows the story, and the way Clint tells it-- even the detailed version doesn't take this long. He should have been gone hours ago. Like Bucky, she doesn’t pull her punches as she says all of these things to him and asks again why he stayed.

“Darce," Clint interrupts before Bucky can answer. As she looks up at him, he hesitates. "Just listen to what he has to say, okay?" 

His fingers have gone still against the top of her head and he's being completely serious, something that doesn't happen often. It peaks her curiosity and makes her pay attention. They have a silent conversation, consisting mostly of facial twitches, before she nods. She'll, reluctantly, give Bucky a chance. She regrets it almost immediately.

“Run away with me."

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Darcy flinches as the force of her reply causes her ribs to twinge.

"That’s a long list, Doll. You're gonna have to be more specific," Bucky answers back, his tone slipping back to carefully neutral. Clint remains silent, watching closely but letting Darcy fight this battle for herself. She points out that she doesn't even know him, never mind wanting to be alone with him-- especially after he's already barged into this unwelcome and demanding answers. Her breath hitches as the reality of the situation sinks in. 

Bucky knows her secret now, and he has no reason to keep it. If he tells anyone... 

Panic wells up in her, and Darcy can’t stop the sharp whine that sneaks past her swiftly crumbling facade. She’s distantly aware of Clint’s hand in her hair again as he talks to her, his voice soothing despite not being able to make out what he’s saying. She clenches her eyes shut as everything starts blurring together, and even her aches and pains feel dulled under the weight of her distress. 

Focusing on the rhythm of Clint's fingers against her scalp, Darcy tries to match her breathing to the movement. After what feels like forever, but is probably only minutes, things start to get less hazy. Awareness of her surroundings returns slowly, but eventually she’s able to acknowledge the men who are waiting patiently for her to recover. Clint continues to speak, cautious with his words and avoiding anything that could be mistaken for an order as he shoots warning looks at Bucky, who stares back as if he’s solving a puzzle.

Neither of them comment on her voice being less than steady as she assures them she’s okay. 

There is a long silence before Bucky asks Clint if he’ll step out so Bucky can have a minute alone with her. Darcy refuses to be embarrassed as she clings to Clint a bit more tightly before he can slip away. She’s not sure she wants to face Bucky one on one, without Clint to buffer the interaction. It’s still too soon after a bad night for her to be entirely comfortable with this man she barely knows-- one who’s become far too interested in her personal drama. 

It takes a few more minutes for Clint to convince her it’s not a bad idea, promising he’ll just be in the next room and can be back in seconds if she needs him. 

“I think we could all use some coffee, don’t you?” It’s a deflection and she knows it-- just like she knows he won’t leave her side until she says it’s okay. But Clint’s been leading her to this since the moment she woke up, and it seems important enough to him that she’ll step out of her comfort zone because he wants her to. She agrees, and keeps her eyes on him until he disappears before warily focusing her attention back on Bucky.

He glances around as if checking his options before slipping out of his chair and folding himself down onto the floor in front of her. He's close, but still far enough away to not make her any more uncomfortable. And she must have let some of her surprise slip through-- why else would he bother to explain, without any kind of prompting, that he remembers what it’s like to be that unsure with someone unknown looming over him? He's purposely put himself on her level, sharing something that must have been even more horrible than her own experience, and her chest aches at the thought. 

Bucky smiles, a soft, barely there thing, but genuine, Darcy can’t help but notice how handsome he is. When he comments that she has a very open heart, Darcy struggles with words for a moment before she shakes her head and manages a weak snort. 

“I feel like I should be making a comment about pots and kettles,” and that combination of arched eyebrow and his head tilting to the side, even the slight twist of his mouth, reminds her of Clint when he’s confused. Darcy gives an inward sigh as she realizes he just slipped a little farther past her defenses. She shakes her head again before attempting to clarify her point for him. “You don’t even know me, yet here you are.”

“I'd have to be a pretty shitty person to just walk away after what I saw last night." 

She's heard his story from Thor, and even that highly edited version makes her wonder that Bucky could have any compassion left for anyone. As he keeps talking, his voice remains soft, the volume and tempo soothing-- almost lulling her into a more cooperative mood. It's an oddly effective manipulation, and it surprises her how little it bothers her, coming from him. A part of her wonders if it’s because he's not trying to hide what he's doing, or if it's Clint's obvious display of trust by leaving them alone together that has already swayed her willingness to give him a chance. Deciding to take the leap and match his bluntness, she gets right to the heart of it.

”Why are you doing this?” she expects some kind of hesitation but he responds right away.

“I’ve been where you are, Doll, and I think I can help.” He doesn't seem put out by the suspicion at all and Darcy is silent for a long time, just watching him. 

“ Barton explained his position. I don’t have the same… restrictions, he does,” Bucky continues, keeping his voice even and watching her for any hint of give. It’s something she’s not ready to allow him yet. He’s still practically a stranger, even if he is suddenly acquainted with the horror story of what happened to her. That’s why it’s such a surprise that he lets her see his regret before he murmurs his next words. “It’ll give  _ both  _ of you time to heal properly.”

Of course he knows just where to strike for maximum damage. 

She closes her eyes, as much at the words as at the physical pain when her body attempts to curl in on itself in protective instinct. She knows he didn’t mean it as an attack, but it still hurts like one. The worst part of it is that she knows he's right. She can't keep putting it off anymore. The guilt is eating at her; always has done. Maybe now she'll have the strength to let Clint go, before she destroys him completely.

"You don't even know me," she repeats, barely a whisper and much weaker than she'd hoped. She pays extra attention as he explains with a surprising amount of tact that it's better that way-- less chance of personal feelings getting in the way of what needs to be done. 

She keeps pushing him, questioning his motives, but they both know it's mostly for show. He had her the moment he brought Clint's well-being into the discussion. She finally tells him she'll think about it, but she needs to know what she's getting herself into. Bucky nods, sliding closer, but not before he calls out to Clint that he can come back now. 

"He's going to need the details too," Bucky answers the unasked question, and for some reason his willingness to keep Clint in the loop makes her want to trust him. 

It doesn't take long before Clint comes back, balancing a filled tray in his hands. He passes it off to Bucky so he can help Darcy sit up, trying not to aggravate her wounds more than necessary. She still winces a few times, and the bottle of painkillers appears again. Clint hands over the mug she'd claimed as hers the third time she'd ended up here and Darcy cracks a weak joke about planning everything before she's too out of it to focus as she swallows two of the pills. Clint waits until she puts the coffee down to hand her a plate of buttered toast, and she only grumbles a little about the mother-henning as she nibbles at the food. 

He’s too good to her and she knows it-- just like she knows she doesn’t really deserve it. It's one of the ways he's chosen to deal with his guilt, and no protesting from her has yet changed his mind. Such a stubborn man.

Once she’s settled, both men take up their own mugs and plates. Between Bucky and Clint, it doesn't take long to walk her through all of the suggestions they'd discussed while she was sleeping. She's surprised by how often they stop to ask her for her opinion on things, and how much consideration they give her answers-- though she probably shouldn't be. Clint has been her rock through this whole mess, right from the start, and while she doesn't really know Bucky, he's made his case for being able to help them. More importantly, Clint trusts him with this, and that’s good enough for her.

"What set you off this time?" Bucky interrupts as they're filling him in on her major triggers. Darcy hisses as she crosses her arms and the movement aggravates her injuries. She looks at Clint and flexes her sore wrist, focusing on the pain to keep it together.

"I wanted to try your suggestion. About the gym?” she adds when Clint looks unsure about what she means. Darcy sees his jaw clench and knows she doesn’t actually have to say more. It reinforces why she’d fight with anyone who tries to say Clint isn’t smart. He’s connected enough dots from that little bit of information to guess at what happened. But she knows he likes to have all the information he can, so she explains further. “I had another run in with the Captain. It may have ended with me telling him he should get his own life instead of criticizing mine.” 

" _Steve's_ giving you trouble?" Bucky speaks up, and she's surprised to see he's frowning when she looks at him. Darcy snorts, then groans, mumbling some creative cursing as she shifts to find a more comfortable position. Even Clint looks impressed by some of the new ones she's picked up. 

"If that's what you want to call being politely advised to fuck off before I mess up the good thing Thor and Jane have, then sure, we can go with trouble." Clint gets up to pace at that, fists clenching like he wants to hit something. Darcy keeps most of her attention on Bucky, who actually looks surprised. Feeling the urge to push his buttons, a small test before she agrees to be alone with him for what could turn into a long time, Darcy adds an observation. "Sounded almost rehearsed, like a conversation he's had with someone before. Any idea why that could be?"

He studies her for a long moment and she sees the second it clicks, but she isn't met with the frown she expects. He looks like he’s fighting a laugh as he asks her why she'd think that was because of him. 

"Oh, come on, the history books all paint you as the ladies man and him as your moral compass." He actually snorts at that, shaking his head and muttering that Steve probably got a kick out of that description. Darcy and Clint exchange confused looks and Bucky explains how things really were back then. Darcy almost wants to laugh at the idea of Captain Upstanding being a troublemaker, but her own recent confrontation with him is still too close to want to think about him too much.

Bucky must see her discomfort, because he freely offers the story of the only time he tried dating two girls at once. He had been 19, and it was only a couple of dates before he ended things with one of them.

"She didn't take it well, but after Steve talked to her, she left us alone." Bucky’s voice takes on that same sadly fond tone Clint gets when talking about old regrets, as he adds that he stayed with the girl he chose until he was shipped off to Europe.

"I get that he thinks he's looking out for his friends," Darcy admits, only a little reluctantly. "Hell, I might even admire the effort, if he wasn't charging ahead with wrong information." 

"So why not just tell him the truth?" Darcy sighs and drops her head back against the couch. She closes her eyes and just breathes for a minute, not quite reaching the calm she's after until Clint drags his fingers through her hair. They stay like that as she runs through her list of reasons, starting with her being an invited guest and not having to justify her existence to anyone, and stopping with not trusting Steve to not tell everyone and make things worse. She doesn't admit to everything, and when she peeks at Bucky to gauge his reaction, sees that he recognizes that. He actually calls her on it, pressing for how much of it has to do with Jane.

"That's not the point. I don't care who he is, Cap doesn't get to decide what I can or can't do.” Darcy knows it comes out sharp, but she can’t bring herself to care. She explains that she’s done with people who expect her to go along with what they want because they think they know better than her, and her tone leaves no doubt that however much the comment is about others, it is also targeted directly at Bucky-- advanced warning that she will not tolerate that kind of behavior from him. 

While he’s quick to promise that he has no intention of tossing around orders or leaving her out of the loop, he needs her to be aware of what she’s agreeing to. He doesn't sugarcoat how unpleasant it could get, determined to make her understand that it will not be an easy process. 

"You’re gonna hate me sometimes, Doll. You'll have to tell me everything eventually, and you're gonna need to trust me. I  _ will  _ ask you to do things you won't want to." Darcy sees Clint's jaw clench at that and in an urge to ease his tension, she interrupts.

"As long as we're not talking about you propositioning me for dodgy sex things, I'm willing to try." Both men are clearly startled by the comment, and she swears they’re actually  _ blushing _ , but Clint recovers first, leaning down to muffle his shaky laughter in her hair.

"Oh, Darce, never change. You should take it easy on the new guy though. He's an old man. Easily shocked." Bucky protests that, not quite hiding a smirk as he complains about damn kids needing to get off his lawn. Darcy laughs carefully, pleased that her distraction worked better than expected. Clint squeezes her shoulders lightly, and she knows he understands. 

Playing along seems to relax something in Bucky that she hadn't even noticed before, and he suddenly looks much younger. As she watches him banter back and forth with Clint, Darcy can't help but wonder how old he really is, under all the bad years. It can’t be much older than her, and it breaks her heart for him all over again. For everything she's been through, his experiences have been so much worse. Maybe something in all of this will help him too.

“So when do we start?” Darcy asks, frowning as she hears the words slurring together. The painkillers have kicked in, and it won’t be long before she’s crashing out again. She hears Bucky say he needs a week to get things set up, but after that it’s whenever she’s ready. She thinks he says something about her ankle, but her eyelids are drooping and things are getting fuzzy.

“Don’t worry, Darce. We’ve got this.” Clint’s voice is reassuring as he helps her lie down again. She’s distantly aware of the murmur of voices and cool metal touching her hand as she drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

  
  


 


	2. smiled and tried to mean it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting a road trip with a near-stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where I feel it becomes necessary to say "I'm in your fandoms, bastardizing all your canons", which is mostly just a bit of namedropping of people and events from some of the X-books.  
> This chapter delves into Darcy's history, with mentions of past violence and character deaths.  
> As always, all mistakes are mine, all characters are not.

Darcy surveys the mess she’s made of her room and sighs. It’s tough trying to pack with limited use of one hand, but she’s slowly managing. The hardest part is whittling down everything she might need for the next few months down to the three bags she’s been told she can bring.

The loud snarl of her stomach is a sudden reminder she hasn’t had anything except coffee in nearly 18 hours. Remembering there's leftover casserole in the fridge, now seems as good a time as any to take a break. Limping her way to the door, Darcy is surprised to find Thor and Jane occupying the couch in the main room. She’s quick to angle her face and body away slightly, doing her best to hide her injuries from them-- she’s not sure she’s up for the questions that would bring right now.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt," she offers as they both turn to look. She starts backing into her room when Jane's voice stops her.

"Just do what you need to do," and Darcy wonders how someone can pack so much exasperation into a sigh. She tells them it can wait and apologizes again, but as she turns to leave, Thor calls for her to stop. She freezes, knowing that to run away from him now would just make things worse. Listening as he gets up and walks over to her, Darcy has enough warning that he's about to touch her before he actually puts his hand on her arm. She turns her head just enough for him to see her black eye, careful to still keep it hidden from Jane.

"Again?" Thor keeps his voice low as he asks, careful so it won't travel across the room. Like every other time it's happened since he found out, he looks heartbroken. It crushes her a little more each time she puts that look on his face, and Darcy curses Loki a million times over for taunting Thor with what he did to her while she was his captive.

"They haven't talked to you yet," Darcy is careful to keep her whisper vague because she knows Jane is still watching them. Her stomach snarling interrupts whatever Thor intended to say, and he frowns at her knowingly before directing her to the kitchen. With a sigh, Darcy complies, doing her best to disguise her limp as she moves. Thor keeps a hand on her back, blocking her from Jane's view as much as he can.

She shoos him away once they're in the kitchen, telling him not to let her ruin his night with Jane. Thor frowns as she struggles with getting food for herself, but backs off  when she insists she's fine. Even after he returns to the couch she feels him watching her. She ignores the staring, taking the one spot at the counter where she's mostly hidden so she can eat in relative peace.

Once she's done, eaten until she's stuffed, Darcy hobbles her way back to her room. She tries to be as discreet as possible, but it doesn't work very well. Thor is at her side before she makes it halfway across the room. He helps her to her door and makes sure she's settled in, taking in the mess without comment.

"I'm going away for a while," Darcy admits, knowing he's curious, but that he won't ask-- not with a chance of Jane overhearing. "Bucky says he knows somewhere I can go to recover."

Thor gives her a hard look at that, but she just tells him he should talk to the man if he wants to know more. He lets it go for the moment, telling her to ask if she needs any help, with the packing or anything else. He gives her shoulder a careful squeeze before he returns to the main room, closing the door behind him.

Darcy looks around at the mess and sighs, shoving a pile of clothes off the bed to make some room for herself. She curls up as much as she can, wincing as her ribs twinge and quickly loses her battle to stay awake.

                                                                                                      ========

They're just outside the elevator when Thor stops her with a careful hand on her arm. He’s wearing his concerned face and hesitates for a long moment as he studies her.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course not,” Darcy reaches for her backpack to avoid meeting his eyes. “But since when has that ever mattered? I have to do this.”

Thor watches her for a while in silence before sighing and nodding. He picks up both of her bags in one hand and reaches for her backpack, but she dodges out of the way carefully. He arches an eyebrow at her and she returns the look, insisting that she can do it. They have a short staring contest where she can almost _feel_ him willing her to let him help, but in the end he lets Darcy have her way.

"Stubborn," Thor teases, shaking his head. He doesn't try again, just pushes the button to call the elevator. As Darcy adjusts the bag more securely on her shoulder, she catches sight of Jane lurking at the end of the hall with a frown. Darcy ducks her head and fidgets, unable to hold Jane's stare, and shuffles back into the elevator as soon as the doors open. She can't help wondering how long her former boss had been standing there.

Thor hesitates, glancing between the two women for a minute before eventually turning to Jane. He lets her know he’d be right back and, without waiting for a response, he joins Darcy in the elevator. The ride down to the garage happens in silence.

When the doors open, Clint and Bucky are both waiting next to a well-used pickup Bucky has acquired somewhere to use for their trip. As they load her bags into the back, Darcy says her goodbyes with Thor, trying her hardest not to cry when he offers his wishes for her safety and a swift recovery. She hugs him, and he returns it easily, being extra careful not to aggravate her still healing ribs. It calms her ragged nerves more than anything else has since agreeing to Bucky’s plan. With a kiss to her forehead, Thor steps back so she can have a moment with Clint before she leaves.

Darcy doesn’t hesitate to wrap herself around Clint, keeping her voice low as she tells him again that none of it is his fault. She wishes he’d believe her when she tells him she doesn’t blame him, never has blamed him, for anything that happened-- that all she wants is for him to stop blaming himself. He hugs her back carefully, like he thinks she’ll break if he squeezes too hard.

“You know it’s not that easy,” he shakes his head. After a long few seconds, Darcy stretches up to kiss his cheek. She whispers that she loves him against his jaw before stepping back, turning for the open door of the truck where Bucky waits to help her in. She doesn’t run, but only just.

Bucky has a quiet word with the others as Darcy tries to get comfortable in the passenger seat, and by the time she’s settled, he’s behind the wheel. It isn't long before the Tower is a shrinking splotch in the mirror, quickly lost in the predawn glow of the city lights.

Darcy takes a shaky breath, nails digging into her palms as she shifts her focus forward instead of back, watching as Bucky navigates the nearly empty streets. It's the first time she's left the Tower since Thor came back and moved her into his suite. She feels twitchy being away from that safety net, even if she never truly felt welcome there.

It’s impossible to miss the way Bucky glances at her every few seconds--he's not even trying to be subtle about observing her reactions. She knew it was coming. What's surprising is that it doesn't actually make her uncomfortable-- there’s an ease with him she never expected, especially not so quickly. He waits until they've made it out of the city before he says anything.

"You love him." It's more statement than question, and Darcy doesn’t have to ask who he means. There is no judgement, just curiosity, and it makes her more willing to talk about it with him. She watches his face in the flickering of the passing street lights as she says yes. "And you don't see a problem with that?"

"I never said that," Darcy sighs, turning away to lean her head against the window and watch the terrain pass by outside. She can still see him watching in the reflection, but he doesn't push-- leaves her space to answer in her own time. "The reasons why it would be a bad idea could fill a helicarrier three times over. It doesn't change how I feel, or that he'll never let it happen. It is what it is."

She closes her eyes, not wanting to see the pity she's sure will be there, as she whispers about not wanting to be even more of a burden to him than she already is. There is a long silence.

"You say that like you don't know he loves you too," and it's still surprising that a man who has seen and done the things he has can still manage to find so much compassion for someone like her. Darcy gives a halfhearted shrug as she points out that whether that’s true or not, it doesn't actually change anything. Bucky doesn’t have a response for that.

They travel in silence for a while before he tries to start a conversation again-- asking to hear her version of what happened with Loki. She doesn't flinch at the name, but only just. That reaction was one of the first things Clint had helped her train out of her behavior, absolutely necessary if she insisted on hiding what happened. It's always hard to pick it back up after a hard night. Without bothering to open her eyes, Darcy focuses on keeping her breathing even as she calls him out on his spectacularly bad timing.

"Wanting me to relive that in a moving vehicle is just asking for trouble."

"Fair enough," the acknowledgement comes easily, but he's not willing to let it go completely. He points out how Clint mentioned that the staff hadn't affected her the same way as everyone else, and asks with the same ease as asking her favorite color if she has any theories why.

That finally gets her to look at him again. Of course he would be curious about her apparent resistance to mind control. She knew he had to be working some kind of angle. It doesn't explain the way her chest aches at the confirmation though-- or the overwhelming disappointment she feels. He said it himself that keeping things somewhat impersonal would be better. Darcy breathes her way through it, determined to not fall into that trap again-- of thinking this could be something other than just business.

"Of course I have theories," and she recognizes the slight cooler edge on her words, but doesn’t try to hide it. She ignores the way he frowns the next time he glances her way, not sure she wants to contemplate just what kind of change he observes in those moments. If business is what he wants, business is what he’ll get.

Darcy lists off a few ideas before the suggestion of different brain chemistry or hormones seems to catch his attention. When he asks about it, she points out that, as far as she knows, she was the only woman the staff was used on, and maybe it was as simple as that. Deep down, she knows that's not what it was, but Bucky actually seems to consider that possibility--it's more than she'd expected.

"Have you ever encountered anything like that before? Or something that might have given you, specifically, a resistance?" Darcy just stares at him, chewing her bottom lip raw. He looks again at the hesitation, and she braces herself for a conversation she knows she's going to regret.

"What do you know about Charles Xavier?" There's a long, tense pause at her question. Her eyes fall to the way Bucky's grip shifts on the steering wheel, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching, and the way the truck drifts ever so slightly towards the shoulder. He takes a deep breath and the truck steadies again. He keeps his head facing forward, but glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you trying to tell me you're a mutant?" His voice is so even, it gives nothing away. Darcy tangles her fingers in her sweater, knowing his reaction to what she has to tell him could make, or break, this arrangement before it really gets started.

“Not _me_. My brother, Jordan,” Darcy shakes her head, but never takes her eyes off him. She tells Bucky what she remembers about when Jordan’s mutation manifested– the physical changes he couldn’t hide and the other things he could do. She doesn’t bother to hide her disgust over how their parents, out of hatred and fear, sent him away.

Bucky lets out a heavy sigh and starts muttering under his breath. Most of it might not be in English, but Darcy can tell he is cursing up a storm-- she’s pretty sure she makes out at least a couple of threats in the mix too. She almost wants to smile at the reaction. It tells her exactly what she wanted to know. She can trust him with this.

“Jordan was my best friend, and I couldn’t forgive them for what they did to him,” Darcy confesses. She shifts a little, trying to make it easier to look at him, and winces as the seatbelt digs into her ribs. Bucky shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes her head and keeps going. “When I found out Xavier took Jordan in, I used to run away to visit. _A lot_.”

"None of that was mentioned in your file,” Bucky interrupts, and finally turns to look at her properly when Darcy snorts.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. may think it’s hot shit for knowing everything, but when it concerns mutants, they only know what Xavier _lets_ them know.” As close as she’s watching, she sees his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk. Of course someone getting one over on the agency would amuse him. Bucky's distrust of S.H.I.E.L.D., even the newest incarnation free from all HYDRA influence, is well known to everyone.

"So, you spent a lot of time at the school?" he prompts her to continue as he focus back on the road. Darcy knows he's aware that this is all build up for some kind of revelation, but he’s being careful not to rush her. It’s something she appreciates.

It takes a minute to find the right words, but she tells him about all the times she visited her brother. She'd made some friends, but not all of the students liked that she was there. She understood that-- some of them had terrible experiences with non-mutants before finding a home at the school. She'd tried to keep out of the way as much as possible, but she had Xavier's permission to be there and her brother was always happy to see her-- she was determined to not let anyone keep them apart.

"There was one kid though, even my being near the gates got him so twisted up,” Darcy shifts in her seat again, turning to lean her back against the door so she can watch his every reaction. She tells him about Quentin, one of the telepaths-- a boy with a lot of power and even more attitude. She mentions the gang he started, and how they used to sneak out and attack non-mutants because they were angry, and they could. "They killed at least a couple that I know of. He got into their heads and..."

This time Bucky does pull the truck over.

"He went after you." It’s not a question. It’s almost startling how cold his voice is, and it's light enough now that she can see the way his jaw clenches. He doesn't turn to look at her, but the steering wheel creaks ominously under his flexing hands as she nods.

"Jordan managed to stop him, but not before..." she trails off and clears her throat, not wanting to get into the details. She takes a moment and just watches the steadiness of Bucky's breathing, uses it to set the pace of her own before she gets to the point of her story.

"Xavier had to go in and try to fix the damage.” Her voice stays surprisingly even as she tells him about the scars it left on her mind, and how Jordan stepped in to demand the professor give her any kind of defense against it happening again. “Between whatever he did in there, and the little bit of psychic shielding they could actually teach someone who wasn't naturally inclined to it-- that must have been enough in the end."

"I had no idea," Bucky finally releases the steering wheel and turns to look at her. His face is a mask she can't read-- so similar to Hawkeye's mission face. She can't deal with that level of blankness right now and looks down at her own hands as they tug at the hem of her sweater. She wishes Thor was here. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Darcy shrugs, still not looking up as she points out that, outside of the school, almost no one knows about that-- and she's sure Bucky understands why she would want to keep it quiet. He watches her for a long time before he agrees, and she knows that it is a promise of silence from him.

"What happened to the kid? The one who attacked you?” That she does flinch at, and there’s no way Bucky could miss it. If she thought he was tense before, she doesn’t even have a word for him in this state. In the back of her mind Darcy wonders why she’s not afraid of him, even though he looks about ready to snap.

“He’s still at the school.” Darcy forces her voice to remain steady as she fills him in on how they insisted on dealing with the incident in house-- code for covering it up, of course. Hearing the plates of his arm shifting, Darcy is suddenly appreciative that he's pulled the truck over and let go of the wheel. She can’t help the worry that settles like a weight in her stomach. If he can't handle this part of her past, there's no way he'll be up for tackling the rest. "They said he reformed."

"You didn’t buy it,” and again, it’s not a question, but Darcy answers anyway. His lips twitch as she tells him that even at 15 she hadn’t been that gullible, and it seems to pull him back from the edge a bit. “And your brother?"

The question isn't really a surprise, but that he almost sounds calm as he asks it is. The shifting of his arm speeds up the longer she hesitates, as if he’s realizing there's worse coming. Darcy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to prepare to tell the worst part of the story. She can feel her barriers slipping into place, giving her the necessary distance to get the words out.

"Not long after what happened to me, an anti-mutant group attacked the school.” She pauses, fighting to maintain some measure of calm. “They claimed it was retaliation for the things Quentin's gang had been doing.”

A light touch on her clenched fists startles Darcy into opening her eyes. Bucky's hands hover over hers like he isn’t sure if he should try to touch her again. One glance at his face tells her all she needs to know-- he's already guessed the end of the tale, and he's trying to offer her what little comfort he can. Grasping at his offered support like a lifeline, Darcy whispers about the bus full of students that was blown up, her voice finally breaking when she admits Jordan was one of them.

She doesn’t cry-- not over this. Resentment had stolen that from her a long time ago.

Bucky squeezes her fingers, offering silent comfort as Darcy struggles to regain control. They stay like that for a while, with the sky getting lighter as Darcy counts the clicks of the emergency lights to pace her breathing. As the traffic passing by becomes more frequent, the sounds pull Darcy back to the present. She looks up to find Bucky watching her-- not blank like he was before, but something she would almost call sad.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the feeling that she’s over-shared, Darcy pulls away from his touch-- wondering as she does why the hell it’s already so hard to do. It was like that in the beginning with Clint too. Clearing her throat, she shifts back around so she’s staring out the windshield again, reminding herself that this is supposed to be just business.

“I’ve never been back.” There’s more to the story than that, of course-- like how they let Quentin come to the funeral, and how she lashed out at them for protecting him at the cost of so many others. Attempts were made to contact her over the years, but she cut most of her ties and never looked back.

A glance at Bucky shows he’s frowning again-- not an obvious one, but the barely there downturn of his lips that she already recognizes. She can’t help wondering if that’s a bad sign. Pushing the thought aside, Darcy shrugs off his concern. He lets it go, but warns her they’ll be revisiting this at a later date, and waits for her to acknowledge before turning his attention back to the road. Neither of them tries to restart a conversation as they drive on, and without meaning to, Darcy drifts off.

                                                                                                      ========

As careful as Bucky tries to be when he wakes her, Darcy startles from her uneasy nap, confused and disoriented. It takes her a few seconds to remember what’s going on-- who she's with and where she is. She mumbles an apology, one Bucky waves off, as she glances around to get her bearings. They’re in the parking lot of a diner, and a look at the dashboard clock tells her she’s been asleep for hours. It’s lunch time.

“Barton was wrong about you snoring,” Bucky offers a distraction once he's made sure she's okay. Darcy knows by his tone that the next words out of his mouth will not be serious-- and she tries not to think about how she knows that already. They haven't spent _that much_ time together. She sideeyes him hard as a warning, but he just smirks as he says he’d have packed more towels if he knew she drooled so much. The undignified squeak she makes leaves him chuckling as he turns the car off and pockets the keys.

She waits until he’s out of the car to swipe at her mouth with her sleeve, just in case, and the grin on his face as he helps her out of the truck is proof she wasn’t stealthy enough. She almost wishes she had something to throw at him.

“Ass,” Darcy rolls her eyes, but can’t stop the smile fighting its way through. Despite everything he’s learned about her, Bucky isn’t treating her like she’s made of glass-- like she’ll break if he treats her normally. The joking helps. She's sure Bucky picked up the trick of using humor to help ground her from Clint, and it seems to work almost as well for him.

The light teasing continues as they wait for their order, but while they eat they manage to have an almost normal conversation about inconsequential things. After the heaviness what happened in the car earlier, it’s nice to talk about books and music and school stuff-- anything other than their personal traumas. Catching sight of the jukebox in the far corner, Darcy jokes that they should pull a Salt and Pepper Diner, not expecting him to get the reference, but ready to explain. It takes a lot of effort not to freak out when Bucky actually gets up with a wink and a handful of coins.

It's a relief when the music that starts is something recent.

"No luck," Bucky shrugs as he slides back into his seat, and Darcy snorts as he says maybe the next one will have it. She questions who told him about it and laughs as he tells her about Sam and his ongoing quest to get Bucky to crack a smile.

"You're a troll," Darcy points at him with the fry she's holding, and he grins, admitting it's more fun than it should be to annoy Sam. There's a definite note of fondness as he talks about the other man. "He sounds like a fun guy."

"You've never met?" Bucky actually seems surprised by that. Darcy shakes her head, admitting she doesn't really spend a lot of time around other people-- for obvious reasons. She doesn't say that no one but Thor would have bothered to make the introductions anyway, but she suspects Bucky hears it all the same. Pointing out that _they_ have only just met gets a nod and that look she's figured out means they're going to return to this topic at some later date. She tries not to worry about it.

It's actually a little surprising how calm she is right now, being out in the world and surrounded by so many strangers, but Bucky does a good job of keeping her distracted. When she asks him about it, he admits he picked this place because of how few customers were there.

"I'm not about to throw you in the deep end and let you sink or swim, Doll," Bucky shakes his head and steals one of her fries. He smirk as she squawks at him, almost a challenge for her to do something about it. It's definitely tempting, but she backs down, eyes dropping to her plate as she drinks--- something to keep her hands and mouth busy so she can't respond. She hears his deep breath and worries she's disappointed him, but his voice is back to being almost soothing. "We'll work up to that."

She isn't sure if he means her fighting back or dealing with more people, but finds it doesn't matter. He's keeping his word about not rushing things, and that is comforting in its own way.

The conversation remains pleasant as they finish their meal, and it's actually been kind of fun, but as Bucky helps her into the truck, her ribs twinge in a way that leaves her hissing curses. She waves off Bucky's concern, but he watches her carefully until they're back on the road.

"I have to ask," his attention is mostly on driving, but he's an excellent multitasker and keeps sneaking glances at her. It doesn't put her on edge because he's doing that not-quite-smirking thing again, so Darcy waves her hand and tells him to bring it on. "The swearing?"

Darcy laughs so hard that it makes her ribs ache, then regales him with stories about Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, and some of the interesting things she'd learned from them. She may not see them often, but they have been good friends to her.

"They know what happened." Darcy nods, confirming that they were with Thor when he found out. Bucky accepts the information and shifts the topic to something less potentially upsetting.

Another few hours pass in easy conversation, and as they stop to stretch their legs for a bit, Darcy admits that it's her first time out of the Tower since Thor brought her in. Bucky looks genuinely surprised at her words, though whether it's about the comment itself or the content, she's not sure. It's the first thing she's volunteered without any kind of prompting from him. When he finally responds, it's to ask her to trust him. Curious, she agrees.

A quick trip to the grocery store and a short drive later, they are having a picnic dinner in a secluded field as the sun sets. It would almost be romantic, if they were here for different reasons. He laughs when she tells him that, and answers back that she's the one who vetoed the dodgy sex things. Darcy sprawls across the blanket, cackling until she can barely breath. When she finally calms down, she rolls onto her back and watches the stars come out.

"I've missed this," she whispers, knowing Bucky will hear her. He shifts closer, making enough noise that she can tell where he is as he moves. He says her name like a question and waits for her to look before he offers his hand. She only hesitates a few seconds before she takes it.

This is the most at ease she's felt in a long time, and she clings extra hard because she knows it can't last.

 


	3. say goodbye to the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward and settling in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kept growing and growing while fighting every step of the way, so I decided to split it at a point that felt like it worked because this fic was in desperate need of an update.  
> As always, all mistakes are mine, all characters are not.

The rest of the road trip is an interesting experience, to say the least. They switch vehicles twice along the way and backtrack multiple times to make sure they aren’t being tailed. It’s weirdly fascinating to watch Bucky work and, though she’s sure it’s not necessary, it’s comforting that he’s making the full effort for this.

After the first night, Bucky alters their travel plans a little, picking up a tent from somewhere during one of their frequent stops. They spend two of the next three nights sleeping under the stars, and for the first time since New Mexico Darcy feels some of her long-held tension start to dissipate.

Bucky stays close while still managing not to hover-- giving her space when she needs it, but making it clear he’s always willing to talk when she’s ready. It makes the inevitable freak out over being outside and wandering around in the open pass more easily. He never treats her like she's broken and his unflappability when confronted with things that show just how far she still has to go is surprisingly calming. There is no pushing for more information, just light conversations about inconsequential things unless she brings something up. He makes her laugh more during that time than she has in years and it feels amazing, even though she knows it can't last.

It takes five days of driving to reach their final destination, a farm that Bucky informs her belongs to Clint. He'd offered the use of it when Bucky was suggesting places to take her because no one knew about it and wouldn't think to look for either of them there. The property is maintained by a neighboring farmer who rents all of the land, except for almost six acres surrounding the house, so they don’t even have to worry about keeping things running or having someone invading their privacy.

They arrive well after dark on the fifth night, and by mutual agreement don’t linger over the moment. Bucky does a quick check of the house to make sure it is secure as Darcy waits in the truck, and when he gives the all clear she helps him unload their stuff-- as much as he will let her anyway. Once everything is inside, Bucky picks up all of her bags, giving a silent nod for her to come with him as he heads up the stairs. She follows to what turns out to be the master bedroom, which he says is all hers for the duration of their time at the farm. The look he gives her when she tries to protest shuts her up quick.

“You have your own bathroom and locks on all the doors,” Bucky informs her, and that’s all it takes for her to get why he made this choice. He has offered her as much privacy and security as possible while sharing a house with someone she really hasn’t known that long.

“Thank you.” Bucky just nods to acknowledge her words and tells her to get some rest, closing the door behind him as he leaves to do a perimeter check of the property. With a shake of her head over his quick exit, Darcy digs her favorite pajamas and toiletries out of her bags and gets settled into her new room, stalling until she hears Bucky return before crawling into bed.

Darcy sleeps like a rock, surprisingly exhausted from the trip. She wakes 14 hours later to an empty house and a note on the counter about food in the fridge. Armed with a fresh cup of coffee and her reheated breakfast sandwich, she heads out to the porch to eat and get a look at the property in the daylight. Before she can get settled, the steady thwack of something being hit catches her attention and she slips closer until she sees a shirtless Bucky, expertly wielding an ax next to an impressively large pile of wood. It only takes a few seconds for him to notice her watching and look up. She salutes him with her coffee.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, grinning over at her as he sets up the next piece of wood.

“Who am I to turn down a free show?” Darcy snorts and settles onto the swing to eat as she watches him work. It’s oddly peaceful, and definitely not hard on the eyes.

Her food is long gone by the time Bucky starts slowing down, and when he finishes he joins her on the porch, using his shirt to wipe himself off before plopping down next to her on the swing and stealing the last of her coffee. Darcy throws her napkin at him and, though she knows he could have avoided it easily, Bucky lets it hit him. He tries to look unimpressed, but his twitching lips give him away.

While he doesn’t actually say it, Darcy knows he’s glad she’s starting to fight back. It’s one of the things he’s after, and a good sign that she’s already getting more comfortable with him.

A push with his feet sets the swing into motion, and Bucky gives it a few seconds before he asks how her night was. Darcy tells him she can't remember the last time she slept that long at a stretch and he sighs.

"The trip wore you out. I tried to draw it out so it wouldn't be as bad." Darcy shakes her head and assures him she would have let him know if it was too much. She admits that she hasn't been sleeping well since the accident-- not nightmares, but dealing with the pain and stress.

"I think I let my guard down enough that when it finally hit me, it knocked me right out.” Staring out at the massive woodpile distracts Darcy from the way Bucky watches her. They agreed to honesty, so it feels right for him to know her doubts, but it doesn’t make it easier to voice them. With a deep breath, she forces the words out. “I know this is helping, but I'm worried it won't last."

From the corner of her eye she catches the movement as he holds his hand out to her. Without giving it a second thought, Darcy takes it. This is his form of comfort for her, the way Clint has running his fingers through her hair, and it gives her something to focus on, grounding her in the here and now. If he’s anything like Clint, the action is just as much about soothing Bucky's own frustration at not being able to fix things for her instantly. Whatever his reasons, Darcy appreciates it more than she can put into words. She squeezes his hand in gratitude and one side of his mouth twitches up just a little as he squeezes back.

Darcy tries not to get lost in the feel of his hand in hers-- the heat of it and the roughness of the calluses. It's becoming more of a battle every time not to contemplate what it would feel like against other parts of her. She berates herself for the thoughts and forces them away, unwilling to risk their... whatever they have. He's an attractive guy and it's been a long time for her, so the urges are natural-- nothing to worry about, she lies to herself. Actually going there would be crossing a line there would be no coming back from though, so she distracts herself with the mountain of wood Bucky created.

"What spurred on the need to create a woodpile big enough for a signal fire that can be seen from Asgard?" Bucky chuckles, and if he realizes there's anything more going on than just her curiosity, he keeps it to himself.

"Trapped in the truck for too long," he offers, explaining his need to expend some energy, but not wanting to disturb her by using the gym Clint has set up in the basement.

"You could have--"

"You needed the rest. I doubt you'll have too many easy nights, at least for the first little while, so you'll take whatever sleep you can get." It's not quite an order, just a firm suggestion, but she takes it for what it is. He knows better than she does how things are likely to play out, though he does look almost surprised when she asks if he expects her to train with him. "Should I?"

"Clint used to sometimes," she shrugs. "He said the activity could help."

"Well, he's not wrong." Bucky looks her over again before asking what they worked on, and she fills him in on the various endurance building exercises and little bits of self-defense. Most of it was brushing up on things she'd learned from Jordan or friends from his school, she explains, and nothing too strenuous-- or that Clint worried would trigger her inadvertently. "We could do that, if you feel up to it."

Darcy agrees and they fall into a comfortable silence. Bucky keeps up the gentle pace of the swing as Darcy looks out over the empty fields visible from the house. She wonders aloud if they will be around long enough to actually grow anything, and snorts at the slightly exaggerated side-eye she gets from Bucky for it. Clarifying that she meant small, easy stuff that could cut down on the need for trips into town for groceries.

"Only teasing," Bucky shakes his head, but admits it's a good idea. "Though you're on your own for figuring out how to do that. I’m a city boy. Farming is _not_ in my skill set."

"The internet is our friend," Darcy answers him solemnly, straight-faced and unblinking. Watching Bucky's face scrunch up, it only takes a few seconds before she cracks and starts laughing. She admits to knowing a little because her high school had set up a community garden run by the students, and Bucky just shakes his head and calls her a brat.

"Any plans for the day?" It's an odd question coming from him. He was the one in charge of this little adventure, so she thought he would be the one planning things out. Instead of pointing out that obvious fact, Darcy responds with mock offense.

"How could you ask that? _Clearly_ I'm dressed for a black tie event." Bucky takes another, longer look at her Thor onesie, complete with winged helmet hood and bright red cape, and grins as he tells her he'd pay a lot of money to see her walk into a Stark gala in that outfit. Darcy nearly falls off the swing laughing at the mental image, and that as much as anything else cracks Bucky up.

Once they've both calmed down, Bucky suggests exploring their temporary home-- if Darcy's up for it of course. She accepts the challenge, and after a short break to get cleaned up and properly dressed they make their way around their portion of the property-- or as much as they can without aggravating Darcy’s still weak ankle. They find a target course set up in one of the barns and an elaborate workshop in another, stocked with supplies labeled for specific repairs. Based on the amount of stuff, Clint has a lot of plans for the place, and as they make their way back into the house to look around, some of it is obvious. The state of the stairs leading to the basement level has Bucky suggesting they do some of the repairs while they're staying and Darcy agrees. More than just the busy work Bucky likely intends it to be, it's also a chance to pay Clint back for the use of the place. And, it would be awesome to not have to worry about her foot going through a step any time she needed to use the laundry room or gym.

By the time they finish their tour, food sounds like a good plan to both of them, but when Bucky tells Darcy to rest while he cooks she insists on at least helping him. She just catches sight of his smirk before he ducks behind the fridge door and agrees. Turning on some music for background noise, they get working together fairly smoothly with her following his lead. She can't help but admire the ease he has in the kitchen and it settles her nerves a little more to see him lighten up even that little bit. The music stays on while they eat and, in the end, they share an enjoyable meal, keeping away from any heavy topics and occasionally lapsing into comfortable silences.

Since they shared the cooking duties it only seems right that they share in the cleanup, and when Bucky inevitably splashes her for some teasing poke she takes at his musical taste, she snaps him with the towel for revenge.

"You know, if you're gonna keep breaking your own rules..." he trails off with a suggestive leer. Darcy laughs and calls him a pervert before hooking the towel over his shoulder and walking out of the room. She settles on one of the couches in the living room with a book stolen from one of the shelves, and he eventually joins her, sprawling out over the other couch with his own reading material. When Bucky gets up to add more logs to the fire, Darcy heads back to the kitchen to make them some tea before they both settle back in. Things are quiet, but not uncomfortable, and eventually Darcy drifts off without meaning to.

A gasp breaks the near silence as she startles awake and it is a long, tense moment before she remembers where she is. Taking a deep breath, Darcy pushes herself upright and reaches for what's left of her cup of tea, now cold. She doesn't care, just desperate for _something_ to ease the tightness in her throat. Bucky waits until she puts the cup down and looks at him before asking if she's okay. Knowing he won't appreciate a deflection, and keeping in mind their agreement to honesty, Darcy takes a few seconds to assess herself before nodding and explaining it was just a bad dream.

"I can't even remember what it was about, just that I was scared." She glances around the room to avoid looking at him and notices the dying fire. The clock on the mantel lets her know she was only out for a couple of hours, but it is still pretty late for most people. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm probably keeping you up. You didn't have to--"

"It's fine," Bucky cuts her off there, quiet but firm. It's a tone she's already learned not to argue with. He doesn’t use it often, only when she starts getting overly twitchy about unimportant things, but it pulls her back and gives her a chance to calm down and reassess things. "I don't really sleep much anyway, and it takes time to settle in a new place."

She gets that. When Thor brought her to live in the Tower, she barely slept at all the first week she was there. It's why she was so surprised she crashed as hard as she did last night. Part of her still feels bad about keeping him up, but she knows it's a choice he made for himself-- to stay and watch over her instead of trying to move her. Knowing it would likely be necessary at some point, she had given him permission while they were planning things with Clint, but Bucky has still been very careful so far to not touch her without getting her consent first, or at least giving some kind of warning. It’s just one more thing he does to keep her feeling as comfortable as he can make her during all of this, but before she can feel more than a flash of gratitude, he goes on.

"If this is gonna be a regular thing though, we should consider leaving some towels in here. Y'know, to keep the drool off the couch." The words are so seriously said that it takes a second for the meaning to make it through her still sleepy brain. When it does, Darcy squeaks, and before she can process the actions she whips the nearest pillow at him, quickly followed by two more. He lets them all hit him and pouts at her for it, pretending they hurt. She calls him an ass, but can't keep the smile off her face-- he really is fun to spend time with. They stay up a little longer together before putting out the fire and heading off to their separate beds, behind locked doors.

Darcy has a rough night, but still not full-blown nightmares, just the ominous sense of impending badness. She's not sure what _will_ happen when it hits, but she's dreading it. Giving up on sleep early, she goes in search of coffee and finds Bucky already up with breakfast made. One look at her and he prepares a large mug.

"Rough night?"

"Yes, actually, but thanks for letting me know how bad I look. That's always what a girl likes to hear.” Darcy grumbles as she shakes her head. The lack of sleep and caffeine doesn't leave her in the best head-space and she forgets to moderate her snark. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the charming one.”

Seeing Bucky freeze for a second is a surprise, and she never expected to see him looking so _flustered_. Red faced and stammering, he chokes out an apology. Worried that she may have actually upset him with the comment, Darcy waves it off and tries to turn the whole thing into a joke.

"You are so easy," she teases. He stares at her for a few more seconds then snorts.

"I could be, but you already vetoed that kinda behavior." Though his face is still pretty red, he's wearing almost the same smirk he gets when he teases her about drooling in her sleep, and Darcy can't help but answer with one of her own as she calls him a troublemaker. She sips at her coffee to hide her relief at not driving him away, knowing she'll have to be more careful of that in the future.

It's too easy with him like this-- it makes things feel almost normal. It's oddly worrying, but if he's going out of his way to help her, the least she can do is not make it harder for him.

When she asks about plans for the day, Bucky mentions doing something about fixing the front steps and patching up the damaged areas of the porch-- unless she has any objections. Darcy offers to help and after studying her for a minute Bucky agrees, on the condition that she rests any time she gets tired. It's a normal enough request, especially knowing that her ribs still give her problems once in awhile, so Darcy agrees.

Over breakfast they discuss repair skills, Bucky seeming surprised when she admits to experience with construction and impressed as she tells him about a summer spent helping build a school in Ghana the year after Jordan died. It wasn't just something that got her away from home for a few months, but something her brother had always wanted to do but never got the chance to, so she did it for both of them. They fall into silence after Bucky gives her one of his softer, genuine smiles and says she’s a good sister. Coming from Bucky, she's taking that as pretty high praise, and she spends most of the rest of the meal holding back tears.

Once they've eaten and cleaned up, Darcy heads back to her room to change while Bucky goes out to the barn to start dragging over the supplies and equipment. When she joins him, her baggy jeans and the huge flannel shirt that she’d stolen from Thor earn a raised eyebrow, but Bucky keeps any comments about it to himself. He hands her a crowbar and sets her to work prying up ruined boards as he finishes getting everything else set up. Just like in the kitchen, they find they work well together and things go smoothly. The only hiccup comes when Bucky bars her from using any of the power tools and refuses to hear any arguments about it.

"Nothing loose that could get caught allowed near the machines." Darcy knows he is right, but that doesn't make it sting any less-- she does actually know what she's doing. No matter how much she tries to change his mind, Bucky doesn't budge on the issue and eventually Darcy tires herself out channeling her frustration through the crowbar and hammer. She stubbornly holds out until Bucky calls a halt for lunch.

Just like the night before, Darcy offers to help. This time Bucky shuts her down without any hint of humor, reminding her they'd made a deal about her being part of the repairs and she'd already walked the line of breaking it. It's the quiet way he tells her to go rest that finally gets through. While he's been looking out for her, concerned for her health and safety, she's been acting like a bit of a brat to him for it. The guilt gnaws at her, keeping her from settling down.

When he calls her to come and eat, she apologizes and promises to do better. Bucky nods his acceptance, but doesn't comment on it further, instead asking about how she's holding up physically. The easy acceptance of what he calls a rough patch between them, something he does point out is expected, reminds her that this isn't a holiday with friends, and his first priority is helping her get better. It's one of their most stilted conversations between them yet, but they get through it okay, even if they don't achieve their normal ease.

After lunch they both get back to work, and things are still too quiet for her liking, but she's not sure how to break that tension. It makes her lose focus a little, and after the fourth time her sleeve slips and is almost nailed to the porch, she grunts and rolls them both up to her elbows without thinking. A slight pause in the sound of the saw has her glancing nervously up at Bucky, waiting for him to comment, but he doesn't-- not about that. A compliment on the progress she's made comes instead and he returns his attention back to cutting the next board.

The breath she didn't realize she was holding comes out shaky, but drags her tension out with it, and for the first time since she woke up, Darcy really starts to relax. The banter comes easier after that, and the work gets done more quickly. After a couple more hours where they get more done than Darcy expected, Bucky calls a halt for the day and sends her inside while he puts everything away safely.

Darcy throws a frozen lasagna in the oven before hopping in the shower, and by the time she's heading back downstairs to check on dinner, she can hear the water running in the other bathroom, letting her know where Bucky is. While she waits for the food to finish cooking, Darcy fixes up a salad and some garlic bread to go with it, and everything is done by the time Bucky joins her in the kitchen. After trying a little of everything, he gives it a thumbs up, confiding it's better than a lot of stuff he has eaten, and while Darcy admits it's okay, she can't help but add that it's got nothing on homemade.

"You saying you can do better?" Darcy can hear the challenge in his tone as he aims another of his teasing smirks at her.

"I will make you a real one someday and it will change your life." It's not worth the effort to hide her pride about that. Not many people can say that a god has such high praise for their cooking. He teases her that if it's true she'll have to stick around and keep making them for him, and she jokes back that she is going to enjoy watching him fight with Clint and Thor over that. "Clothing optional, of course. And, maybe some oil for good measure."

"Y'know, for someone who vetoed the dodgy sex things..." he trails off, looking far too amused by the whole conversation. Darcy waves him off dismissively, pointing out that he was the dirty-minded one who had jumped to a sexy meaning to her words, and besides, she'd just be watching, not participating. Shooting her a downright filthy grin, one that leaves her blushing harder than she has in a long time, Bucky comments that it's good to know she likes to watch. Darcy throws a cherry tomato at him and snorts when he catches it in his mouth.

"You're a bad, bad man," she shakes her head, slightly embarrassed, but so worth it to have that ease with him back.

"Have been for a very long time, Doll. Better for you to figure that out now." He says it lightly enough to pass as more banter, but there's a flash of darkness in his eyes that makes her heart stutter.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be here," she whispers, staring down at her plate. She knows he hears every word, but this way offers him what little privacy she can give while she has her say. "I have faced some truly evil men in my life, James Buchanan Barnes; enough to know you are _not_ one of them. Whatever bad things _They_ forced you to do? That's on _Them_ , not you."

Bucky doesn't say anything, but after a long, tense minute, his hand slides across the table between them-- palm up in his usual gesture of comfort. The things they experienced were different, but at the same time it's hard to ignore the many similarities, and Darcy doesn't hesitate to link their fingers together and squeeze, offering her support however she can.

The silence lingers, and while it's not what she would ever call _comfortable_ , there is an oddly peaceful quality to it that stays with them through the cleanup and the unspoken agreement to call it an early night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't know if Darcy's onesie actually exists, but I want one.


	4. could tell the difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avoiding the inevitable couldn't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where we finally start to get into some of what happened to Darcy while she was captured, so there are discussions of past violence and aftermath. Nothing too detailed, but your mileage may vary. Also, more namedropping.  
> As always, all mistakes are mine, all characters are not.

As the days pass, they fall quickly into a routine.

Bucky has breakfast ready by the time she gets up in the mornings, and sometimes he actually hangs around long enough to eat with her. Three mornings a week she joins him in the small gym and he slowly helps her build up her endurance. He strictly limits her to that amount of time to keep her from pushing herself too hard, and she gives in with only a minimal amount of complaining. She's painfully aware that he doesn't have to do any of this, but is choosing to anyway, and she doesn't want to be too much of a bother for him. She's already taking up too much of his time, so why make it harder than it needs to be.

For her free mornings, Darcy usually sleeps in-- if she can manage it. When that isn’t an option, she reads or finds some other way to occupy herself while Bucky is busy. Afternoons are often spent doing simple repairs around the place or getting a small vegetable garden planted and growing, while the evenings are generally quiet, ending with the two of them relaxing in the living room together. Every moment of it gives Darcy and Bucky the chance to get to know each other better and get more comfortable with each other. It all comes surprisingly easy for them, much more than either expected-- almost unnervingly so, when Darcy stops to really think about it. She tries to avoid doing that for just that reason.

They share in all of the cooking and cleaning equally, but Bucky is the one who makes the trips into town when they need supplies. He goes alone, but starts easing Darcy into the idea of going with him eventually, to get her use to the thought of being in public again. The _idea_ of it doesn’t bother her as much as he thinks, but he is right that it is something she’s not ready to just jump into yet.

Darcy takes over doing all of the laundry when Bucky is left standing up to his knees in bubbles the first time he tries to use the washing machine. He scowls at Darcy as she cackles about it because it’s like something out of a cartoon, but judging by his faint blush, she knows he’s just embarrassed. He actually grins when she has to sit on the stairs to keep from falling over as she laughs herself to tears. Flicking bubbles at her as she starts to calm down ends in a slightly silly, but ridiculously fun, bubble fight that leaves them both lying on the floor covered in the stuff. As they’re catching their breath she offers to take over laundry for both of them, and he teases her about trying to get her hands in his pants, which only makes her laugh harder than before.

It’s the kind of easy teasing that keeps things from getting too heavy and Bucky always seems to know just when to let loose a well-timed joke to lighten the mood. She has the feeling that he picked up the trick from observing her interactions with Clint, something she’s more sure of every time he slips in some subtle reference to the other man. They never talk about him directly, but Darcy knows it’s a topic that has to come up eventually. She’s okay with stalling on that conversation as long as she can and Bucky seems to be on the same wavelength.

On bad days, when even the thought of leaving her room is too much, Darcy defaults to trying to hide out, but Bucky allows that less often than she'd like, coaxing her to at least come out into the common areas. He does that thing he's so good at, sticking close while still giving her lots of space, and those days start to get easier to deal with. At no point does he ever try to enter her bedroom.

Nights are when Bucky takes time for himself. After especially long or trying days, he disappears down to the gym or out to the barn alone. Darcy never follows on those nights, giving him what privacy she can. She's invaded his life, and even if he volunteered for all of this, it's still a lot of time to spend confined to one place with just one other person-- especially one with her particular issues that have to be triggering his own.

Eventually her lingering injuries heal fully and it makes everything noticeably easier, but she still rests when she needs to-- or when Bucky insists on it. He rarely does, and never without a good reason, so she doesn’t fight him on it. Usually. As much as she tries to make this as easy on him as possible, sometimes she slips. He never holds it against her, unfailingly patient in dealing with the ups and downs, but that only makes her feel worse about it when it happens.

It takes nearly three weeks to settle in comfortably enough for the lingering feelings of dread to manifest into a full-blown nightmare. When it finally happens, Darcy startles awake in her garden, lying on her side with her head in Bucky’s lap. He squeezes her hand lightly when he realizes she’s awake, but otherwise lets her process everything in silence.

It had started with the dream, she remembers-- that same horrible dream she can never escape. Getting up to instinctively seek out Clint lead her to the front door and she hadn’t realized where she was until she’d stepped outside and panicked at being out in the open instead of the Tower. The urge to find something familiar made her run, and she tripped over a row marker, ending up as a crying mess curled up in the dirt with her potatoes. Things after that are more hazy-- at least until Bucky tried to approach. She didn't recognize him at first and tried to crawl away, just like that first night in the stairwell. Nothing he tried got through to her until he muttered something in Russian, which makes an odd kind of sense when she thinks about it. It is a language she associates with her brother and old friends instead of the bad things that happened to her. She had reached out for him then, and he didn’t hesitate.

"Fucking _fuck_. M'sorry Bucky," she buries her face against his thigh to try to hide her tears and embarrassment.

"Nothing to be sorry for. We're fine," his voice is low and soothing, helping her relax. He runs his free hand through her hair as he murmurs reassurances, promising that they handled things okay. Once the tears have stopped and she's breathing more evenly, Bucky helps her stand, brushing the dirt off of her carefully as she attempts to keep her balance. With an arm around her waist to steady her, Bucky leads her back into the house and gets her settled on the couch with a blanket. Wrapped up tight and distracted by taking stock that there are no new injuries, she barely notices Bucky disappear for a short time until he comes back with tea.

He waits for her to settle enough to take a few sips of her drink before deciding it's time to talk.

“I know it seems like a horrible time to ask, but I need to know what he did to you.” Darcy only just keeps from flinching. She doesn’t want to give details, it's too soon after a nightmare to even want to consider that. It takes a couple of tries for the words to come out and even then she's embarrassed by the shakiness of her voice as she asks if she really has to.

"I don't think I can relive the details right now without actually vomiting on you."

"I know it's hard, but I can't help to the best of my abilities if I don't know." He takes her cup from her when it starts to shake enough to worry about spilling the hot tea on herself. Focusing on just breathing, she almost misses when Bucky says he can work with generalities for now. When it registers, she looks up to meet his knowing eyes, and she reminds herself that he's seen some of the scars-- if nothing else, he probably has a few guesses based on that. Averting her eyes, Darcy curls into the tightest ball she can manage, and starts to speak.

"He was... resourceful. Used what was lying around." She mentions the straps and chains used to secure her and how he'd started with random debris littered around the location, broken glass and bits of metal mostly. Wood and brick he'd pulled from the walls got added into the mix too. "To keep things from getting _dull_ , he said."

The expected detachment finally starts to set in when she mentions the wires, and even as careful as she is to avoid looking directly at Bucky, from the corner of her eye she can see the way he tenses as she makes the distinction that only _some_ of them had been live.

It's a struggle, but Darcy pulls herself back enough to fight the urge to stop explaining with that. They promised truth with each other, and to only tell him parts of it hurts what he's trying to do here. She clenches her eyes shut as she describes how Loki had demanded Clint's knife when nothing else got him the answers he was after, and how only when he got _bored_ with that did he resort to the scepter. Bucky already knows some of how that went from their discussion in the car on the trip out here, so she glosses over it for now.

“When it didn’t work like he expected, he got angry.” Up until that point he’d still mostly been toying with her. That was when things had gotten worse. She breaks off the explanation to reach for her tea, giving them both a moment to process it all and hoping that what she’s already said will be enough for now.

"You didn’t mention fire." Darcy startles at the comment and when she turns to look Bucky very pointedly glances at her arm in response. She can't fault him for the assumption. She knows exactly which scar he’s thinking about, and braces herself to say something she knows will not go over well.

“He’s a creature of ice. Sometimes that can burn just as bad.” For all of his training and skill, Darcy sees the comment hit Bucky like a physical blow. Even as out of the loop as she is with the people she’s been living around, she was warned about Bucky’s issues with cold. She should have known it was too much to hope they could avoid that for as long as possible. The most surprising part comes when he visibly shakes off the reaction and moves onto the couch next to her.

“May I?” Bucky gestures to her arm but never looks away from her face. Her hesitation doesn’t make him backpedal exactly, but he does take the time to remind her that she doesn’t have to. His willingness to not push her on it continues to make the most difference in her choosing to indulge his request, and she waits another moment to just breathe before putting her cup down and answering.

“Okay,” Darcy gives the clear consent he’s after and holds her left arm out to him. The care he takes not to actually touch her skin as he rolls her sleeve up is above and beyond, but she appreciates it anyway. No one but Clint has touched her scars, and even letting Bucky see is hard enough without worrying how she might react to actual contact.

Bucky stops when he reaches her elbow and for a while the only movement she sees is his eyes taking in each of the scars-- she’s not even sure he’s breathing at first. He studies every mark that covers the inside of her arm, lingering longest on the thick band around her wrist where the bindings were and the discolored patch about the size of his hand that curves around the side of her forearm-- the one he’d thought was a burn. The tension is there, but nowhere near as bad as she expects it to be, and it doesn’t take long before Bucky rolls the sleeve back down to cover everything.

Darcy doesn’t know what instinct makes her snag Bucky’s hand as he starts to pull away, but he freezes, meeting her eyes again. Something of what she’s feeling must show because his face loses the mask-like blankness in the space of a blink. His eyes take on a reassuring softness as he links their fingers and squeezes lightly.

“How extensive is it?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s worried about breaking the long silence. Without pulling away from their physical connection, Darcy uses her free hand to grab her tea again, to have something else to focus on.

“Not as much as you’d expect,” Darcy shrugs as much as she can and swirls the liquid in her cup to avoid looking at Bucky again. There’s a weird intimacy to their situation and she’s feeling it now more than ever. It’s hard to remember she should be trying to avoid getting too attached when he treats her like this-- with the kind of care and consideration that has been in short supply for the last few years. “He only had me for a few days, and he had a lot of other, more important, shit going on.”

“It’s bad enough to keep you covered from the neck down at all times.” She doesn’t try to argue that point-- he’s not wrong.

“It keeps people from asking questions.” Darcy side eyes him pretty hard when he asks if anyone else has seen them, and reminds him that Clint was there when most of them happened. Bucky also saw Clint treating her injuries-- that was how this whole idea they are trying got started. She doesn't think he meant it as a test, to see if she'd bring Clint up, but it feels a little like that. A small line appears between his eyebrows as she shifts the topic quickly. “Thor knows, but hasn’t seen most of them. I thought I could spare him that much, at least.”

"Do you ever blame him for what happened?" Bucky sounds genuinely curious, and it is one of those moments, surprisingly frequent around him, that makes her pause to really consider her answer. He waits patiently as she thinks everything over.

“I don’t blame Thor for the things his brother chose to do," Darcy offers slowly, picking her words with as much care as she can. "Just like I don't blame the people being controlled for what they were forced to do. It wasn’t their fault."

His fingers twitch against hers, like he can't decide if he wants to squeeze harder or let go. Darcy chooses for him, tightening her grip and meeting his eyes unflinchingly when he looks up at her. There is a shuddery quality to his next breath that makes Darcy want to hug him, but she holds back. Even if she felt comfortable enough to try crossing that boundary, she's not sure Bucky would accept it. Maybe someday, but neither of them are quite there yet.

"You are something else, Doll," his voice sounds a little rough, but there is a shift in the way he holds himself, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. There is a lightness now that wasn't there before, and Darcy vows to make that happen for him as often as she can.

A jaw-cracking yawn interrupts what she plans to say and earns a soft chuckle from Bucky. With a last squeeze, he lets go of her hand and takes her empty cup as he stands. Darcy shakes her head at the way he shoos her off to bed, but can't help the small smile. He's kind of adorable when he's flustered and trying to hide it.

It doesn’t feel like it’s worth the effort to argue with him about this. There’s no guarantee rest will be peaceful, but it is very late, and she is exhausted. They could both do with more sleep. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, Darcy gets up.

“Thank you,” clutching the blanket with one hand, she slides the other along Bucky’s arm as she passes. He nods and quietly wishes her a good night. She feels him watching her until she disappears up the stairs and out of his line of sight. It isn't until she's crawling back into bed that Darcy realizes tonight has been one of the least traumatic post-nightmare experiences she's ever had.

For the first few days after a nightmare, Darcy knows to anticipate bad dreams and to plan accordingly for it, which is why it is such a shock when it doesn’t happen-- things seem to almost return to normal. Sharing what she did, letting him in that much, is both freeing and kind of terrifying, but ultimately hasn't changed anything in their interactions. She clings desperately to the camaraderie they had been building in an attempt to ignore how exposed she feels because of it, and Bucky seems content to play along-- for the moment, at least. He watches her more than he used to, and while it doesn't exactly make her uncomfortable, it is still a noticeable difference. At least pressing her to share anything more than she already has doesn’t seem to be a part of his immediate agenda.

It takes three days before the fallout from that night hits them, coming in a way neither of them could have anticipated.

Darcy wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling that something is off. All she has right now is a lingering unease that she can’t account for. Grabbing her taser off the bedside table, Darcy slips into the hall, wandering barefoot and silent down the stairs and into the living room. It’s too dark to really see anything, but she can feel eyes tracking her as she moves. As on alert as she is, it still takes her over a minute to actually spot him, tucked into a chair in the darkest corner of the room.

With a sigh of relief, Darcy puts the taser down on the coffee table before moving closer to him. It isn’t until she’s only a few feet away that she realizes it’s not actually Bucky, but the Winter Soldier she’s approaching. Instinct makes her tense at the knowledge, but she doesn’t try to move away-- whatever else can be said about him, he’s still _Bucky_. Darcy is only a little surprised that she doesn’t feel at all threatened by the situation.

Meeting his scrutiny head on, she whispers hello and settles cross-legged on the floor near his feet. She watches him silently, the same way he watches her, and just as her neck starts to twinge from holding the angle to look up at him, he slips down onto the floor in front of her and mimics her pose. It should be weird, just staring at each other for so long without attempting to talk, but it's not. Like dealing with a skittish animal, she's patient, waiting for she doesn't know what. He just studies her calmly, so she doesn't feel the need to hide from him.

After a short time, he inches closer. The silent staring contest resumes as if nothing changed. More time passes and he does it again, repeating the process, until his legs brush against hers. Only then does he reach out with his left hand, stretching forward to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. Darcy doesn’t shrink away, just keeps calm and lets him do what he wants in his own time. As cool metal drifts across her skin to cup her cheek, light as a brush of a butterfly's wing, she leans into the touch without any hesitation. The thought of _not_ doing it never crosses her mind and she even closes her eyes-- a sign of her trust. Darcy knows what he can do, but also knows he won't. Even like this, she inexplicably feels safe with him.

When he finally speaks, his voice is like a growl as he mutters something that she only partially understands in what she’s sure is Russian. Piotr and Illyana had tried to teach her the language, once upon a time, and Darcy is almost certain she hears the words _protect_ and _mine_ in the mix. It isn't much of a stretch to imagine the Winter Soldier has just claimed her in some way.

“I trust you,” Darcy whispers, and feels the slight curl of his fingers against her skin. Lifting her hand slowly so she doesn't surprise him unintentionally, she touches the outside of his wrist first, and when he remains calm, slides up until her hand is wrapped around his. She’s not keeping it in place or tugging it away, just holding it to establish that connection. That's _their_ thing, the way Clint has running his fingers through her hair, and it draws him out of his state. For a few seconds, rapid blinking is his only movement, but that doesn't last.

"What were you thinking?" His voice is still low, but now more raw and gravelly as Bucky takes the time to berate her fully for her recklessness. She lets him have his say since he seems genuinely freaked out by what just happened, but she can't help noticing he makes no effort to move his hand away from her.

Once he runs out of steam, Darcy asks him to confirm that her translation meant what she thought it did. It's too dark to tell for sure, but she is almost certain that he's blushing by the way he ducks his head when he admits she got the gist of it. Darcy smiles and the wave of affection she feels for him at that moment has her holding his hand in place as she turns to press a kiss against his palm.

Bucky’s breath hitches audibly at her action and he stills again. It reminds her of seeing Clint slip into sniper mode, so she lets him process for a minute before she gets to her feet.

When he starts blinking at her again, she offers a hand to help him up and, even though he doesn't need to, he takes it without a word. As before, Darcy lets the silence play out. Squeezing his hand lightly, she leads him into the kitchen, where she leaves him sitting at the table as she makes hot chocolate the old fashioned way-- the way Kurt taught her. She feels him watching her the whole time, but he doesn't say anything. It doesn't feel at all uncomfortable, so Darcy doesn't seek to fill the space with unnecessary sound to distract them.

When their drinks are ready, she joins Bucky at the table and they sit in companionable silence for a while. Despite what people seem to think, she's perfectly comfortable with quiet, even if words and noise keeps people from looking too deep. Bucky already knows the things she most wants to hide, so she doesn't feel the need for that kind of deception with him. It isn't until Darcy starts yawning a lot that Bucky breaks the silence to order her off to bed.

"You first,” Darcy sticks her tongue out at him as she returns the sentiment. The last thing she wants is for him to get too comfortable with this new habit he is developing of deciding when she sleeps. Before she can contemplate the wisdom of her next words, they slip out from behind a smirk. “Y’know, if you keep trying to get me into bed and I’m gonna start wondering if you’re angling for an invite.”

She sees the teasing glint return to his eyes as his lips twitch into that familiar grin.

“We’re playing by your rules, Doll.” It is comforting to see the Bucky she has been getting used to slipping back into their usual banter so easily. The feeling that she actually misses the Soldier, who touched her so gently without her having to ask, gets quickly buried. “But if I was after an invite, you wouldn’t be wondering.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to be happy with my empty bed then,” Darcy exaggerates her sigh and throws in a pout for good measure. It earns a small laugh, but leaves Bucky with one of those looks that she already knows to be wary of. He’s _plotting something_. “What are you planning?”

“What? Nothing!” Bucky answers back just a little too quickly, and that’s when Darcy realizes just how much trouble she’s in. The man has the best fake innocent face she has ever seen. She _knows_ he is up to something and _still_ almost wants to believe him. Trouble with a capital T.

“Do you smell burning too?” Darcy leans in towards Bucky and sniffs a few times. “‘Cause I think someone’s pants are on fire.”

The comment earns a bark of laughter from him, followed by a tease that she definitely needs sleep if she’s smelling things that aren’t there. Whether Bucky intends it or not, his face gives away that the response wasn’t his first thought. Going by his faint blush, it was probably something dirty, which only makes her wish even more that he’d actually said it. It’s what Clint would have done, and it makes Darcy miss him even more, but she pulls away from that thought in a hurry.

“You’ve been awake longer than I have.”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you, Doll.” Darcy doesn’t point out the redness of his eyes or the dark circles beneath, just leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. It’s been a long time since she has leveled the ultimate unimpressed look she perfected during her internship with Jane at anyone, but she pulls it out now. For a fraction of a second, Bucky actually looks surprised, but it slips away as he gives in.

"Fine, I’ll go up after I take care of the mess," Bucky rolls his eyes. There isn't much to clean up, but she doesn't want to just leave it for him and tells him so. He just gives her a look, and Darcy holds up her hands and surrenders. She doesn't know when she got so good at reading him, but she gets the impression he'd like to be alone for a while, without him actually having to say it.

She stands, joints cracking as she stretches, and some instinct she can’t name makes her pause beside Bucky’s chair to press her lips to his temple. Moving on, she doesn't look back until she reaches the bottom of the stairs. A short peek shows he’s still sitting at the table with his fingers pressed to the spot she kissed and wearing a softly surprised expression. She smiles as she walks up the stairs, thinking they may have just reached some new level of understanding.

For the first time since they arrived at the farm, Darcy leaves her door open, just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I can be found at [my tumblr](http://silvermorningglory.tumblr.com/), where I occasionally post progress updates/teasers/art related to my fic.


End file.
